


the golden age of something good

by WashiEaglewings



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Candles, Cunnilingus, F/M, PWP, Scar Kissing, post-kh3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-28 22:38:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13281318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WashiEaglewings/pseuds/WashiEaglewings
Summary: "They're so used to rapid-fire everything, saying so much with the quick strikes of their bodies against each other—on the training grounds, on the battlefields, and now in the bed they share. But they're alone in the castle tonight, and Ven isn't supposed to be back until morning at the earliest, and they made sure the wards would hold against anything dark. So he lingers."Aqua and Terra share an intimate moment.





	the golden age of something good

The first snow of the season falls on an otherwise unspectacular night, three months after Xehanort falls. It sneaks up on them—one minute Terra and Aqua are laughing over bowls of hot tomato soup in the kitchen, the mountains green and unassuming, and the next the front lawn is covered in a soft blanket of white. In the fifteen minutes they spend outside, letting the snow bite at their exposed faces, another inch accumulates at their feet. The strongest cups of coffee only offer so much warmth; the rest they gather from each other, tucking their bodies in each other.

They move to their room—his room once, before darkness and monsters and their own coming together—to sit on the wide bed facing the window. It’s eerie, the way the already-quiet world goes nearly silent. For a long time the only noise he hears is the soft rise and fall of their breathing, the slosh of coffee in their cups, and the faintest hiss of the snow falling in thick clumps.

Aqua curls deeper into his side, her hands wrapped around her empty cup. “Ven’s going to be sorry he missed this.”

“He’s in Arendelle, there’ll be plenty of snow for him to run around in.” He pauses. “He took his jacket with him, right?”

“Yeah.”

The worlds had finally begun to accept a normal without barriers between them; the Heartless hadn’t been seen in several weeks. “Arendelle is safe,” Terra says, the mantra Aqua had been repeating since Ven opened the portal to the Lanes Between three days ago. The one he’s been using, secretly, when he finds himself jumping at shadows in the castle’s hallways. He takes a long, slow breath; Aqua follows suit, a little less tense in her shoulders. He smiles. “And he’s not a kid anymore. He can handle himself.”

“I know, I just… I worry.” She didn’t used to get that crease in her brow when she frowned; nowadays he sees it more often than not. He kisses it softly, rubbing her shoulder until she loosens beside him. She sighs and leans her head against his chest, her ear falling right over his beating heart. “About both of you.”

He never knows what to say to that now. _I’m sorry_ seems so empty compared to the hell she’d endured; _I know_ never feels quite right, even though he does. And _Don’t worry about us_ , well, wasn’t that what had gotten them into this mess in the first place?

Terra shakes the thought out of his head, his eyes falling on the simple dresser by the door. And he smiles. “Hang on a sec,” he says, grabbing her cup before slipping out of bed. He sets them on top before pulling several candles out of the drawers.

“How long have you had those?” she asks behind him.

“A while,” he says, tell-tale warmth beginning to spread to his fingertips.

“They're not from the emergency kit, are they?” Aqua teases.

He lights them with quiet Fire spells, sighing as the heat disappears from his blood. “The shop down at the edge of Cable Town,” he says quietly, turning to her. “Are they too much?”

Aqua smiles. “They're beautiful. You can…” She swallows hard. “You can turn off the overhead lights too. If you want.”

He looks over to her, brow quirked. Aqua raises her head to meet him. “Between the candles and the snow, I think I’ll be okay.”

“You’ll tell me if…?”

She nods. He flips the switch. The light doesn’t disappear so much as it _changes_ , going from harsh yellow to warm gold that flings itself up the walls. He turns to see Aqua sit up a little straighter, her shoulders squared, her closest hand twitching. He bends down to turn on the nightlight he keeps plugged in, just in case, and it throws its own milky stars into the room.

“I didn’t take you for a candle person,” she says.

He falls back into the bed beside her, the mattress sinking under his weight. “The scented ones are better than incense.”

She laughs, bending down to kiss him on the nose. “Since when were you so picky?”

“Since always.” He leans forward to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Keep up.”

They're so used to rapid-fire everything, saying so much with the quick strikes of their bodies against each other—on the training grounds, on the battlefields, and now in the bed they share. But they're alone in the castle tonight, and Ven isn't supposed to be back until morning at the earliest, and they made sure the wards would hold against anything dark. So he lingers, savoring the last bits of coffee on her lips and the sharp bitterness of her breath. She teases his bottom lip with tiny nibbles, and it's enough to make his knees go weak.

Maybe that's her plan—she moves on top of him, straddling him and curling her hands into the blankets by his shoulders, before kissing him firmly. Her hands roam his chest, fingers curled like she’s looking for something she’d lost and if she could just pull it out of him—and he follows suit, brushing his thumbs across her breasts and over her sharp collarbone.

Terra pulls her down until they're flush together, mouths greedy against corners and flushed cheeks. There's a warmth building in his belly and it grows every time Aqua smiles into their kisses, either every twitch of her fingers against his skin. His hands roam just as frequently, down her sides and up her clothed shoulders. He teases the edges of her shirt around her collarbones, where her hair falls along his fingers.

Her fingers find his nightshirt and pull up. He chuckles. “Happened to ‘patience is a virtue’?”

“Get up,” she says, grazing her lips over his jaw line as her fingers pull up. His follow suit quickly, brushing against her bra and bare skin. It’s like the snow—he blinks and she’s above him, her hands making quick work on the clasps of her bra.

They've been together in the semidarkness; he's seen her scars on the training grounds. But her scars look different somehow in the candlelight, white and raised like tiny mountain chains. He recognizes some of them, souvenirs from skirmishes when they'd been young and spells she'd miscasted. He's always drawn to the long ugly gash on her right hip, the one he holds tenderly in his left hand, where another him had dug an ancient Keyblade into her; its rough against his palm, doesn't belong there. He can't even begin to count the others on her arms, along her chest, which look like claw marks.

She stills on top of him, watching him with a hard, proud gleam in her eyes. “I’d do it again. Every time.”                                                                                                               

But it’s the one on her belly, freshly healed and more like a knot than a scar, that has his attention now. He leans up to kiss the top of it, just brushing his lips against it—and she shudders, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He pulls back immediately. “Did that hurt?”

Her mouth is kiss-swollen and round as she looks at him, then down. “No. No,” she repeats, decisive. “It felt good. You doing that,” she clarifies.

“Can I…?”

She nods. He flips them, cushioning her head with his arm only to travel down. He keeps his touch light, ghosting lips and fingers against the thickest scars along her sides and abdomen. Just three months of rest and easing out of survival mode have taken the harshest lines from both their bodies—they’re softer now, rounder. His lips sink into the small pooch underneath her belly button, and Aqua laughs beneath him. He smiles, tugging at her bed shorts. “Didn’t know you were ticklish.”

She lifts her hips to help, hands fisting the blankets. “I’m not,” she says, as he slips the dark gray fabric off her legs and tosses them to the side. “I just don’t—”

He presses a kiss into the inside of her thigh and her words dissolve. Terra smiles, nibbling the soft warm skin. Her hand comes to clench in his hair and he grins as he shimmies down, adjusting himself on his elbows. He looks up. “You’ll be okay...?”

She scoots up to meet him, her curls dark and damp when they press against his cheek. “If I need to, you know, move—”

“Hey,” he says, kissing her thigh again. “I'll take care of it. Just relax.”

She leans back with her head on the pillows,her belly rumbling with laughter. “Will you let me?”

Terra grins, his mouth hovering over her opening. He doesn't answer with words, instead pressing his lips around her clit. Just a tiny duck is enough to have Aqua shuddering around him, her hands pulling at his hair. It's a good pain, better than the ones that gave them their scars. It brings tears to his eyes. He keeps going.

He starts learning her the longer he’s down in her—how a flick of his tongue here will curl her fingers deeper in his hair, how a press of his lips into her opening there will make her body shudder around him. There’s a salty sweetness to her that spurs him forward; he laps around her, into her, kissing deeper and slipping his tongue in and out of her. He must be doing something right because she keens above him, a bright sound that dissolves quickly into slow hisses and low moans.

The hand in his hair tightens even more. Terra looks up with tears in his eyes. “You okay?”

Her eyes are more black than blue when she looks down at him, chest heaving. “Whatever that—was, keep doing it.”

He tries not to let too much relief slip into his sigh. “Get your hand out of my hair then.”

She glares at him, brow furrowed—and he can’t help it, he laughs as he leaves wet kisses on the edges of her belly scars. Aqua straightens, holding his head in her hands, and draws him up to kiss him firmly. Knowing that she’s tasting herself on him is enough to leave him breathless, and warm, and maybe he should extinguish those candles because it’s _warm_ in here now.

And then the back of his head is on the mattress and Aqua is... on top of him? Terra blinks, licking his lips, and starts to get up—but Aqua just shuffles on top of him, balancing on her knees. “You can’t give up control for five minutes, can you?”

“Nope,” she says, and there’s a wide, sly grin on her face that sends his heart running. “You gonna finish what you started?”

If he has one thing going for him, it’s that he finishes everything he works on. He leaves little love bites along her pelvis as he shifts down the bed. Terra’s hands find both hips again to steady himself, and Aqua’s curl around him. She guides him, balancing on her knees and rocking just over his face. They find a rhythm with a bit of experimenting, with Aqua pushing up and into him.

It’s sucking her entrance, brushing his teeth against the dripping lips, that gets her close to overflowing; he knows it by the way she clenches around him and leans into his touch. She’s practically vibrating as he licks figure-eights around it, her wet curls sticking to his cheeks, her low keening bubbling up and out into moans. Her hands find his and grip tightly, her nails digging tiny scars into the thin skin below his knuckles.

He’s sweating and warm and hard and Aqua is rigid and tense and dripping and it feels like the room’s on fire—

Wait.

He turns just to see the candles crackle with huge, bright-white flames, threatening to lick the ceiling. Aqua falls back into his lap and legs as he sits up, trying to put out the fire—it only grows with every movement of his hands, flames starting to lick the floating shelve of knick-knacks he’d pulled from the wreckage of the castle’s east wing.

Aqua’s pale hand moving is all the warning he gets before the fire disappears entirely, leaving them with the stars from the night-light bouncing off small ribbons of smoke. For several long moments they fill the room with their hard pants. Then Terra looks down at Aqua, her feet in the air and the small of her back pressing hard into his knee, and something breaks. They laugh, hard, any attempts at words dissolving immediately into loud giggles.

When he’s finally able to catch his breath and gather his thoughts, he asks, “Was that me or you?”

“Who set the candles on fire?” asks Aqua, breathless and giddy.

“Did you set them _more_ on fire?”

“I don’t—I don’t know—don’t _laugh!_ ”

But it only makes him laugh harder, deep belly laughs that make his jaw hurt. He falls back into the bed with tears in his eyes and a sore jaw. Aqua lays on top of him, sweaty and shaking with laughter and still dripping, and buries her forehead into the crook of his neck. He can’t even grab the blankets to pull them over the two, because Aqua is heavy over him and his arms can’t reach.

“If the Master—”

“Don’t you dare,” Aqua says, and smothers the worst of her snort into his shoulder. “Don’t, please, I don’t want to think about the Master with any part of this.”

He’s not sure how long it takes for them to calm down—enough for him to want those blankets. They fidget for a few moments as he drapes them over their bodies. Aqua is a good, reassuring weight on top of him as he kisses her cheek, leaving a wet imprint behind. “But if it _was_ you—”

“It could’ve been you.”

“Was it good?” he finishes.

She hums, nibbling his ear lobe. “I think we need to practice. Not because it was bad, just with—”

“With less candles?”

“With less candles,” she agrees. “Whatever you were doing at the end was good, though.”

“Yeah?”

She leaves a line of slow, lazy kisses along his jaw before coming up to rest their foreheads together. She still smells like coffee, and he smiles. “Next time, do more of that.”

“Sounds good,” he says, and presses a kiss into her bare shoulder. “You want a refill on your coffee? I can leave the light on…”

But she shakes her head. “Stay here with me. Watch the snow fall.”

He turns to the window, where the outside world gleams white and dark pink. He’s half-tempted to summon Earthshaker to unlock the window, but stays put, instead using his free hand to smooth the most unkept locks of Aqua’s blue hair against her head. One of her hands finds his, and she laces their fingers together to rest on his stomach.

“So if I leave out the, uh, private bits—”

“You aren’t telling Ven about _any_ of this,” she says, and squeezes his hand tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me at awakingdormancy.tumblr.com!


End file.
